The Erckmann-Chatrian Megapack: 20 Classic Novels and Short Stories (88 page)

In short he had put everything back where it was before the revolution, nothing was wanting but Louis XVIII., and then the kings had put Louis XVIII. on his throne again. Now he had come to overthrow the legitimate sovereign, and some called him a despot, and some a Jacobin. It was unfortunate for him that he had done everything possible to facilitate the return of the Bourbons. Nothing remained to him but his army, if he lost that, he lost everything, for many of the people wanted liberty like Father Goulden, others wanted tranquillity and peace like Mother Grédel, and like me and all those who were forced into the war.

These things made him terribly anxious, he had lost the confidence of the whole world. The old soldiers alone preserved their attachment to him, and asked only to conquer or die. With such notions you cannot fail of one or the other, all is plain and clear; but a great many people do not have these ideas, and for my part I loved Catherine a thousand times more than the Emperor.

On reaching a turn in the wall, where the hussars were waiting for him, he mounted his horse, and General Gérard who had recognized him came up at a gallop. He turned round for two seconds to listen to him, and then both went into Fleurus.

Still we waited! About two o’clock General Gérard returned, and our line was obliqued a third time more to the right, and then the whole division broke into columns, and we followed the road to Fleurus with the cannon and caissons at intervals between the brigades. The dust enveloped us completely.

Buche said to me:

“Cost what it may, I must drink at the first puddle we come to.”

But we did not find any water. The music did not cease, and masses of cavalry kept coming up behind us, principally dragoons. We were still on the march when suddenly the roar of musketry and cannon broke on our ears as when water breaking over its barriers sweeps all before it.

I knew what it was, but Buche turned pale and looked at me in mute astonishment.

“Yes, indeed, Jean,” said I, “those over there are attacking St. Amand, but our turn will come presently.”

The music had ceased but the thunder of the guns had redoubled, and we heard the order on all sides, “Halt!”

The division stopped on the road and the gunners ran out at intervals and put their pieces in line fifty paces in front, with their caissons in the rear.

We were opposite Ligny. We could only see a white line of houses half hidden in the orchards, with a church spire above them—slopes of yellow earth, trees, hedges, and palisades. There we were, twelve or fifteen thousand men without the cavalry, waiting the order to attack.

The battle raged fiercely about St. Amand, and great masses of smoke rose over the combatants toward the sky.

While waiting for our turn, my thoughts turned to Catherine with more tenderness than ever, the idea that she would soon be a mother crossed my mind, and then I besought God to spare my life, but with this, came the comfort of feeling that our child would be there if I should die to console them all, Catherine, Aunt Grédel, and Father Goulden. If it should be a boy they would call it Joseph, and caress it, and Father Goulden would dandle it on his knee, Aunt Grédel would love it, and Catherine would think of me as she embraced it, and I should not be altogether dead to them. But I clung to life while I saw how terrible was the conflict before us.

Buche said to me, “Joseph, will you promise me something?—I have a cross—if I am killed.”

He shook my hand, and I said: “I promise.”

“Well!” he added, “it is here on my breast. You must carry it to Harberg and hang it up in the chapel in remembrance of Jean Buche, dead in the faith of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

He spoke very earnestly, and I thought his wish very natural. Some die for the rights of Humanity; with some, the last thought is for their mother, others are influenced by the example of just men who have sacrificed themselves for the race, but the feeling is the same in every case, though each one expresses it according to his own manner of thinking.

I gave him the desired promise and we waited for nearly half an hour longer. All the troops as they left the wood came and formed near us, and the cavalry were mustering on our right as if to attack Sombref.

Up to half-past two o’clock not a gun had been fired, when an aid-de-camp of the Emperor arrived on the road to Fleurus, at full speed, and I thought immediately, “Our turn has come now. May God watch over us, for, miserable wretches that we are, we cannot save ourselves in such a slaughter as is threatening.”

I had scarcely made these reflections when two battalions on the right set off on the road, with the artillery, toward Sombref, where the Uhlans and Prussian cavalry were deploying in front of our dragoons. It was the fortune of these two battalions to remain in position on the route all that day to observe the cavalry of the enemy, while we went to take the village where the Prussians were in force.

The attacking columns were formed just as the clock struck three; I was in the one on the left which moved first at a quick step along a winding road.

On the hill where Ligny was situated, was an immense ruin. It had been built of brick and was pierced with holes and overlooked us as we mounted the hill. We watched it sharply too, through the grain as we went. The second column left immediately after us and passed by a shorter route directly up the hill, we were to meet them at the entrance to the village. I do not know when the third column left, as we did not meet again till later.

All went smoothly until we reached a point where the road was cut through a little elevation and then ran down to the village. As we passed through between these little hills covered with grain, and caught sight of the nearest house, a veritable hail of balls fell on the head of the column with a frightful noise. From every hole in the old ruin, from all the windows and loop-holes in the houses, from the hedges and orchards and from above the stone walls the muskets showered their deadly fire upon us like lightning.

At the same time a battery of fifteen pieces which had been for that very purpose placed in a field in the rear of the great tower at the left of, and higher tip than Ligny, near the windmill, opened upon us with a roar, compared with which that of the musketry was nothing. Those who had unfortunately passed the cut in the road fell over each other in heaps in the smoke. At that moment we heard the fire of the other column which had engaged the enemy at our right, and the roar of other cannon, though we could not tell whether they were ours or those of the Prussians.

Fortunately the whole battalion had not passed the little knoll, and the balls whistled through the grain above us, and tore up the ground without doing us the least injury. Every time this whizzing was heard, I observed that the conscripts near me ducked their heads, and Jean Buche, I remember, was staring at me with open eyes. The old soldiers marched with tightly compressed lips.

The column stopped. For an instant each man thought whether it would not be better to turn back, but it was only for a second, the enemy’s fire seemed to slacken, the officers all drew their sabres and shouted, “Forward!”

The column set off again at a run and threw itself into the road that led down the hill across the hedges. From the palisades and the walls behind which the Prussians were in ambush, they continued to pour their musketry fire upon us. But woe to every one we encountered! they defended themselves with the desperation of wolves, but a few blows from a musket, or a bayonet thrust, soon stretched them out in some corner. A great number of old soldiers with gray mustaches had secured their retreat, and retired in good order, turning to fire a last shot, and then slipped through a breach or shut a door. We followed them without hesitation, we had neither prudence nor mercy.

At last, quite scattered and in the greatest confusion, we reached the first houses, when the fusillade commenced again from the windows, the corners of the streets, and from everywhere. There were the orchards and the gardens and the stone walls which ran along the hill-side, but they were thrown down and demolished, the palisades torn up, and could no longer serve as a shelter or a defence. From the well-barricaded cottages, they still poured their fire upon us. In ten minutes more, we should have been exterminated to the last man; seeing this, the column turned down the hill again, drummers and sappers, officers and soldiers pell-mell, all went without once turning their heads to look back. I jumped over the palisades where I never should have thought it possible at any other time, with my knapsack and cartridge-box at my back; the others followed my example, and we all tumbled in a heap like a falling wall.

Once in the road again between the hills, we stopped to breathe. Some stretched themselves on the ground, and others sat down with their backs against the slope. The officers were furious; as if they too had not followed the movement to retreat, and some shouted to bring up the cannon, and others wanted to re-form the troops, though they could scarcely make themselves heard in the midst of the thunder of the artillery which shook the air like a tempest.

I saw Jean Buche hurrying back with his bayonet red with blood. He took his place beside me without saying a word, and commenced to reload.

Captain Grégoire, Lieutenant Certain, and several sergeants and corporals, and more than a hundred men were left behind in the orchards; and the first two battalions of the column had suffered as much as we.

Zébédé, with his great crooked nose, white as snow, seeing me at some distance, shouted, “Joseph—no quarter!”

Great masses of white smoke rose over the sides of the road. The whole hill-side from Ligny to St. Amand was on fire behind the willows and aspens and poplars.

As I crept up on my hands and knees, and looked over the surface of the grain and saw this terrible spectacle, and saw the long black lines of infantry on the top of the hill and near the windmills, and the innumerable cavalry on their flanks ready to fall upon us, I went back thinking:

“We shall never rout that army. It fills the villages, and guards the roads, and covers the hill as far as the eye can reach, there are guns everywhere, and it is contrary to reason to persist in such an enterprise.”

I was indignant and even disgusted with the generals.

All this did not take ten minutes. God only knew what had become of our other two columns. The terrible musketry fire on the left, and the volleys of grape and canister which we heard rushing through the air, were no doubt intended for them.

I thought we had had our full share of troubles, when Generals Gérard, Vichery, and Schoeffer came riding up at full speed on the road below us, shouting like madmen, “Forward! Forward!”

They drew their swords, and there was nothing to do but go.

At this moment our batteries on the road below opened their fire on Ligny, the roofs in the village tumbled, and the walls sank, and we rushed forward with the generals at our head with their swords drawn, the drums beating the charge. We shouted, “
Vive l’Empereur
.” The Prussian bullets swept us away by dozens, and shot fell like hail, and the drums kept up their “pan-pan-pan.” We saw nothing, heard nothing, as we crossed the orchards, nobody paid any attention to those who fell, and in two minutes after, we entered the village, broke in the doors with the butts of our muskets, while the Prussians fired upon us from the windows.

It was a thousand times worse in-doors, because yells of rage mingled in the uproar; we rushed into the houses with fixed bayonets and massacred each other without mercy. On every side the cry rose, “No quarter!”

The Prussians who were surprised in the first houses we entered, were old soldiers and asked for nothing better. They perfectly understood what “No quarter” meant, and made a most desperate defence.

As we reached the third or fourth house on a tolerably wide street on which was a church, and a little bridge farther on, the air was full of smoke from the fires caused by our bombs; great broken tiles and slate were raining down upon us, and everything roared and whistled and cracked, when Zébédé, with a terrible look in his eyes, seized me by the arm, shouting, “Come!”

We rushed into a large room already filled with soldiers, on the first floor of a house; it was dark, as they had covered the windows with sacks of earth, but we could see a steep wooden stairway at one end, down which the blood was running. We heard musket-shots from above and the flashes each moment showed us five or six of our men sunk in a heap against the balustrade with their arms hanging down, and the others running over their bodies with their bayonets fixed, trying to force their way into the loft.

It was horrible to see those men with their bristling mustaches, and brown cheeks, every wrinkle expressing the fury which possessed them, determined to force a passage at any cost. The sight made me furious, and I shouted, “Forward! No quarter!”

If I had been near the stairway, I might have been cut to pieces in mounting, but fortunately for me, others were ahead and not one would give up his place.

An old fellow, covered with wounds, succeeded in reaching the top of the stairs under the bayonets. As he gained the loft he let go his musket, and seized the balustrade with both hands. Two balls from muskets touching his breast did not make him let go his hold. Three or four others rushed up behind him striving each to be first, and leaped over the top stairs into the loft above.

Then followed such an uproar as is impossible to describe, shots followed each other in quick succession, and the shouts and trampling of feet made us think the house was coming down over our heads. Others followed, and when I reached the scene behind Zébédé, the room was full of dead and wounded men, the windows were blown out, the walls splashed with blood, and not a Prussian was left on his feet. Five or six of our men were supporting themselves against the different pieces of furniture, smiling ferociously. Nearly all of them had balls or bayonet thrusts in their bodies, but the pleasure of revenge was greater than the pain of their wounds. My hair stands on end when I recall that scene.